Chapter 317: A Father–Daughter Meal

Isolde was laughing so hard her jaw nearly dropped. “Collin, what brings you all here?”

“Delivering satin. We just acquired a new batch—it’s even softer and smoother than the last. Perfect for a wedding trousseau,” Collin announced proudly.

“Did it really take all three of you to deliver fabric? Anthony, are you slacking off from training?” Isolde teased.

“Not at all! Garrett temporarily assigned me to the city patrol unit. Three shifts, four hours each. I just finished my round and came here afterward. I even have two days off for your wedding.” Anthony grinned.

“Already taking on assignments? That was fast,” Isolde remarked in surprise.

“When you do your job well, people take notice,” Anthony said smugly.

Servants brought in the rolls of satin—eight in total, in shades of red, yellow, blue, green, and white. Isolde pulled one open and ran her fingers over the fabric. It was incredibly soft, smooth, and lightweight.

“This satin will fetch a great price,” she mused.

“Like you need to tell me that?” Anthony scoffed. He glanced at Collin and added, “He’s already categorized them into first- and second-tier goods. These satins? They’re nearly as expensive as brocade now.”

“That impressive?” Isolde was taken aback. Brocade was the most expensive silk, used for imperial garments.

“Yes, and there’s an even rarer one. We’re keeping it in the shop for now to build our reputation before sending it to you.” Collin pulled a small square of fabric from his sleeve. “But here’s a sample for you to see.”

Isolde took the swatch—a golden-threaded satin. Even without embroidery, it radiated luxury.

“Is there a large supply of this?” she asked excitedly.

“No. Only one person knows how to weave it, so it’s priced like a treasure,” Collin replied.

“Where did you even find this satin? Why aren’t they selling it themselves?” Isolde asked.

Collin smirked. “I’ll take you to meet them one day, and then you’ll understand.”

“Fine, I’ll hold you to that.” As someone who had built her name around high-quality fabric, she was eager to meet these weavers.

“Keith, let’s go,” Collin said. The room was filled with women chatting, and it wasn’t the place for them.

Keith, however, was still staring at Nicole. When he finally heard Collin call his name, he blinked. “Oh… we’re leaving? Right. Let’s go.”

Hattie burst out laughing. “Keith, you were staring so hard! How rude! Lady Nicole is shy, you know.”

Nicole flushed, utterly embarrassed, and hurried out, covering her face.

Keith turned to Isolde. “She’s different from before… she’s even prettier now.”

Isolde grinned. “Oh? Would you like her as your wife?”

Keith nodded. “Sure.”

“Shameless!” Anthony roared. “Collin isn’t even married yet, and you’re already thinking about your wedding? Absolutely not!”

Keith scratched his head and looked at Collin. “Then why don’t you pick someone too? There are plenty of ladies here. Esme, how about you?”

Esme picked up the nearest broom and swung it at him. “You must have a death wish to joke about me!”

Keith laughed, dodged, and quickly dragged Collin and Anthony out of the room.

Isolde watched him go, deep in thought. Nicole had been heartbroken over Keith before… Maybe they were a good match after all. She would have to look into it.

Esme waited for the room to clear before turning to Isolde. “Esme, are you here to teach me a secret crying technique?” Isolde teased.

Esme shook her head. “The night before your wedding, you need to formally thank your father for raising you. How do you plan to handle it? If you don’t want to go to him, then at least bring your mother’s memorial tablet here so you can pay your respects.”

Isolde fell silent. Bring it here? Yes, she had to. She couldn’t go to the Sharp family in the dead of night just to perform a ceremony and then return to the Langley estate. But if she brought it back… would she return it later?

“And you haven’t visited Lord Geoffrey at all lately,” Esme continued. “I know you have unresolved feelings, but on the day you leave, you must formally bid him farewell. Everyone will be watching. You cannot neglect this duty.”

“I know,” Isolde said quietly. She had already considered this problem.

“So my advice? Go see him beforehand. Familiarize yourself with the situation so that when the time comes, you can kneel naturally and properly.”

Isolde didn’t respond immediately.

“You’re stubborn, but he did give you life twice. Even if you can’t call him ‘Father,’ you should still show him gratitude. If a stranger saved you, you would at least feel thankful, wouldn’t you? On your wedding day, guests will be watching. You don’t want to earn a reputation for being unfilial.”

Isolde exhaled slowly. “If I think of him as just another man who saved me, then yes, I should be grateful.”

“If you don’t see him as a stranger, then it means you do still care about him as your father. And if that’s the case, then don’t hold onto the bitterness. He knows he was wrong. Let it go. The Grand Queen Mother says you are destined for greater things—you can’t let yourself be caught up in trivial resentments.”

Isolde nodded. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with him tonight.”

She paused. “Invite Nicole and Clark as well.”

She wasn’t sure she could endure a private meal with Geoffrey. It would be too uncomfortable. Having others there would help keep the conversation from turning awkward.

Esme’s face lit up with a smile. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Isolde studied her. “You used to be even angrier than I was. Why are you so forgiving now?”

Esme sighed. “He’s still family. Yes, he was wrong, but he wasn’t the true villain in all of this. If you must resent him, then remember—he was the man your mother loved. That might make it easier for you.”

With that, Esme left the room.

Isolde sat in thought for a long time before making up her mind. She would bring her mother’s memorial tablet home. Her mother had to witness her wedding.

Geoffrey had recovered considerably. He could walk without difficulty, though he remained gaunt. The doctors had said he suffered from liver congestion and declining vision. His persistent coughing had led some to suspect he had consumption, but when Harlan suggested calling in an imperial physician, Geoffrey refused.

“My injuries have mostly healed. I don’t need an imperial physician,” he insisted. “Regular medicine will do.”

“But if you’re coughing like this on the wedding day, how will you entertain the guests?” Harlan pressed.

“It’s fine. I’ll take medicine beforehand.”

As he stepped outside, he spotted Esme approaching from the corridor. “Lord Geoffrey,” Esme greeted him with a polite bow. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better. What brings you here?” He rarely saw her, and her sudden visit made him uneasy—had something gone wrong with the wedding?

“Nothing serious. Lady Isolde has decided to have dinner with you tonight.”